


Ponds and Castles

by misura



Category: Echte Kerle!!! | Regular Guys (1996)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-22
Updated: 2012-12-22
Packaged: 2017-11-22 01:21:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/604256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One man's allergic reaction is another man's second shot at a happy ending.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ponds and Castles

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sarren](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarren/gifts).



Chris wakes to the sound of someone sneezing outside his bedroom. (Well, 'guestroom'. It's still Helen's name on the lease and Helen's name on the bills, even if, of course, that's going to change.)

As far as omens go, it's a fairly mild one. He's had worse, and really, things turned out pretty well for him in the end when all was said and done, so he's not too worried about this one.

Possibly, he should have been.

 

"The cat!" Mike says. "Why didn't you bloody well warn me about the cat?"

_Allergies_ , Helen mouths at him, as if Chris doesn't know these sorts of things about his own partner. (The gay thing was ... different.)

"I'm sorry," he says. "Completely slipped my mind." It's mostly true.

Mike scowls. Helen scowls. Chris wants to scowl, too, but he tells himself he's a changed man now. He's not a scowler anymore; he _talks_ about things.

"You can just sleep with Edgar, can't you? I mean, isn't that why you moved in with him? I really don't understand why you're making such a problem out of some little kitty-cat."

Mike turns red. Helen keeps scowling. Chris still feels like they're ganging up on him. (If Edgar was here, he'd be on Chris's side. Guaranteed.)

"I - " Mike says. "That is - "

"So Mike will be staying here for a few days," Helen says.

" _Here_ here?" Chris asks, dumbly. It's early, and he hasn't even had coffee yet. (Edgar would have made him some, first thing. _He_ wouldn't be springing these sorts of surprises on Chris.)

"No, _there_ here," Helen snaps.

"If it's a problem ... " Mike clearly still remembers turning Chris away in his hour of need. And rightly so, Chris thinks; if Mike believes even for a moment that he can just -

"No problem at all," Helen says. "I have a guestroom. It will be empty very shortly."

 

Edgar looks ... sleepy, when he opens the door. 

Chris determinedly doesn't think of what might have kept him up so late the night before. "Is it okay if I stay here for - " More than a few days, most likely. " - a while?"

His sense of deja-vu might be stronger if Edgar had actually smiled, or given some sort of indication that he's happy about this development.

"Sure. I guess."

It stings a bit, this new distance. Chris isn't gay, sure, but he thought they'd reached an understanding there at the end, that they'd be friends. That even if Edgar would go to bed with Marco and Mike and God knows who else, Chris would still always be someone special to him.

His mistake, clearly.

 

There's small changes everywhere - some new furniture in the guestroom, a new toothbrush in the bathroom, cans of beer in the fridge. The kitchen's back to being a mess, so Chris sets to cleaning that up first. It's something to do, on a Saturday when the game only starts at four.

He'd bought some snacks to eat while watching, but they're still at Helen's. Her place isn't that far way, actually; he could probably just go over there and get them. No problem.

It's not like it was with Ursula. It's not like they've had a fight.

 

"I didn't know you liked soccer."

Edgar shrugs. "Sometimes."

 

One week passes, and Chris feels rather pleased with himself for not treating Mike any differently at work. They're still pals, still partners. Still out and proud, as far as anyone's concerned.

"I'm looking around for a new place," Mike says. "Should be just a few more days."

"When's the last time you went looking for an apartment?" Chris asks. "The year they shot Kennedy?"

Helen's been transferred to some other unit, to 'broaden her scope'. Chris suspects it's to keep her career from being ruined by associating too much with a couple of gay colleagues. Mike thinks it's to give her experience with all sorts of police work. The truth is probably somewhere in between.

_You could just keep the window closed,_ Chris doesn't say. _Is that really so complicated?_

He's seen the cat only once, out of the six nights he's spent at Edgar's. It seemed happy to see him, if disappointed he still didn't have any food on him.

 

"So what's your club?"

"Club?" Edgar sounds confused.

Chris doesn't know why; it's a simple enough question. "For soccer."

"Oh," Edgar says, as if Chris should have said so in the first place. "I don't really have one."

Sometimes, Chris reflects moodily, gay people are just _weird_. What kind of normal guy 'doesn't really have' a club they support through thick and thin, even when they're playing a lousy season with a coach who makes all the wrong calls?

"Idiot."

Edgar blinks, then looks vaguely hurt for a moment.

Chris scowls at him. "Not you. Him! Putting in Tinndecker when obviously, it should have been Schneider. Tinndecker's just going to make things worse."

Edgar chuckles. Chris doesn't understand why, but it's a warm, happy sound and it might just be the first time Edgar's come close to laughing since Chris's moved back in. It's good. The only good thing to come from this otherwise completely shitty day.

 

Mike doesn't make any more promises about finding a new home quickly. He's probably bumped his nose against the hard wall of reality.

Chris reorganizes Edgar's CD collection and stumbles over his stash of gay porn which is kind of embarrassing for all involved, except that Edgar appears to think it's also kind of funny and makes a point of pointing out his favorites.

Helen sounds perfectly happy with the situation, when Chris finally manages to get her on the phone. He feels it should irk him; they haven't had sex for nearly a month now, and yet Helen doesn't sound at all interested in getting Mike out of her guestroom, even if it's just for one night.

Edgar starts smiling more often.

The cat is overjoyed to find Chris has acquired catfood, especially for him (her?). There is loud purring and enthusiastic head-against-leg-butting and Chris is quite probably a terrible person for doing this, because if Mike ever gets back here, he's going to be sneezing up a storm.

 

"Are you watching this because it's got good-looking guys running around while getting sweaty and wearing shorts?"

"Which one do you think is good-looking?" Edgar asks, which isn't quite a denial.

On the other hand, Chris knows from their one night out on the wild side that Edgar is kind of ... picky. Of course, it could just be that he was in a picky mood, that night. Plus, just because you like to _look_ , that doesn't mean you want more than look. It's like Chris reading a _Playboy_.

"I'm watching the game, not the players."

"How's _that_ supposed to work?"

"It just does," Chris says. It's true, too: millions of men all over the world are probably watching this game. It's not as if all of them are gay. Most of them probably aren't, in fact. "Well?"

_You don't even know the color of her eyes_ , Helen told him, once, about Ursula. His 'little Ushi-bear'. She wasn't entirely wrong, at the time. Chris has some vague idea that Helen's own eyes are ... not blue, he is fairly sure. Not blue.

Chris isn't sure how he's supposed to remember the color of someone's eyes unless they've looked at him at least once the way Edgar does now. (He's pretty sure Edgar knew the color of _Chris's_ eyes before today, but that's neither here nor there.)

"I'm not watching the players," Edgar says. "I'm watching you."

 

"Well, it's complicated," Mike says. Carlo's is loud, as usual, but at eight o'clock on a Wednesday night, the usual crowd has yet to arrive.

"No kidding." Not so long ago, Chris believed there was a ... a _thing_ between Mike and Helen. Attraction, lust, call it what you like.

He'd assumed he'd been mistaken. Gay guys don't get a ... a _thing_ for women, after all, much like straight guys don't get things for other guys.

"Complicated, but good, right?" Helen says. She looks at Chris like - well, not like she wants to have sex with him. Not like Edgar did, when Chris showed up on his doorstep again. "We're good, aren't we?"

"We're good," Chris says. "The best."

Mike grins. "Hear, hear."

"Better if you transferred back to our unit, of course," Chris says, because he feels he should.

"Writing traffic tickets isn't really why I joined the police." Helen's smile makes the words sting a little bit less. "Although I do hear you might get promoted to stake-outs again soon."

"Can't wait."

"I'll come keep you company," Edgar says, coming back from the bar bearing drinks.

"Him or me?" Chris asks, before he can really think about it.

"Either. Both. Does it matter?"

Mike chokes on his drink. Helen pats him on the back, gently.

"No," Chris says. "It's all the same to me."

"Well, then."

 

("Actually," Chris says, much later, "I don't think I'm the kind who likes to share.")

("That's okay," Edgar says, sounding sleepy and smug. "I don't think Helen is, either.")


End file.
